Today is Wednesday, December 4th, 2024. Yesterday marked nine months since Mom's transition from this earth, which probably explains why I was in the mood to look at her photo from the service and read through the obituary and other items that I haven't looked at in a while.
I called Daddy to check in on him. He made 76 in November. After looking over Mom's obituary that I wrote, I noticed I hadn't added him as a part of her life detailed in a one-pager. Her name was still Taylor, but the person who gave it to her was not mentioned. I only wrote of Joe and I as her loves, her children. But I believe she was fortunate enough to have really loved twice in this life. I asked Daddy what he thought about the service, the program, the repast, and if he even noticed I hadn't mentioned him. But he didn't seem concerned at all about it. He went on and on about how Joe and I sent our mother to her heavenly home with such care and professionalism. My brother handled all of the financials. He'd just come down the month before because we were in the hospital and had to move Mom to a nursing home to get her strength. That's what they told us. Neither of us thought that facility would be the home of our goodbyes. Anyway, Daddy talked about how beautiful the service was. To a certain point, I didn't want to be offensive to Yvonne either. I don't necessarily like the term stepmother, but some time has passed, and our relationship is authentic. I wanted to honor my mother and not disrespect my father. I think my brother and I did that for the homegoing service.
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I cooked and made an Instagram reel titled "What I Didn't Burn Down Today." Ha! Some church friends said I should start a YouTube channel because I always talk about my kitchen endeavors. I really try my hand at cooking. It is not my thing, but I am determined. In my mind, I think, "Girl, you were in Louisiana for 17 years. What is there to show for it? Absolutely Nathan."
So, I saw today's recipe on Pinterest. It was baked chicken, and the photo looked good. I initially researched some crockpot recipes. Those don't seem as hard to mess up. The oven or stove-top is not my specialty. I must be heavy-handed with seasoning or not pay attention to the clock, but my stuff doesn't ever seem to come out like the picture, much like on Monday. The entire recipe was so simple. I had eight chicken thighs, mayonnaise, mustard, breadcrumbs, Italian seasoning, Parmesan cheese, garlic powder, and black pepper. That was easy. The picture, however, had an image of smooth, baked chicken. It looked juicy, like it had marinated in the oven for hours, with chicken falling off the bone.
My remake was breaded and a little sloppy, if I'm describing it honestly. The first ingredients to pair up were the mayo and mustard. I whipped the two together as a coating for the chicken and then patted it into the breadcrumb batter with the other seasonings. I followed the recipe but was still confused about what it looked like. The end product looked nothing like the picture I'd pinned, but I'm ok because my husband was a happy camper. He kissed my forehead after the first bite and told me I'd done good.
If I had focused on the pinned picture rather than walking through the steps, I wouldn't have finished baking the chicken.
Life is a lot like cooking. The ingredients are mixed together every day—a little bit of good news sprinkled with a pinch of bad news. Season some death this year and add doubt the next. But my faith walk is more than what I see. At least, that is what it is supposed to be. We cannot be moved by what's in front of us, by what we see with our natural eye. We are to look at life through a lens of faith.
Michael (the husband) and I are family planning. We want twins, and by the way it's looking naturally, we have some serious odds stacked against us. Silly me got into my feelings this week because I saw something unexpected—my cycle. I skipped my way through November with nothing, but I didn't say a word, as if I would jinx God's plan. Then December 1st came, and it was like the Red Sea. Ugh.
I ugly cried the first day as I doubled over with cramps. I hadn't experienced cramps since my college years, honestly. I was mad at myself more than God. And then He spoke to me.
"You can't get flustered every time it doesn't look the way you want it to." That isn't faith, he told me.
"You can't say you trust me, rely solely on me, believe I've got your back, and then whine when I do what I do."
Ouch. That's what the late Elder Miller told us to tell ourselves when it felt like he was stepping on our toes during a Sunday sermon. The Lord was right.
Without faith, it is impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6 NIV). I like the way the Message Translation reads verses five and six: "We know on the basis of reliable testimony that before [Enoch] was taken, he pleased God. It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him."
This is what I mean when I say don't be moved by what you see. Have faith that believes God is real and that he is concerned enough to come see about and acknowledge you with a response.
No matter what it looks like on the outside with my human eyes, I am not worried because I have put on my spiritual frames. I see by faith, and God's response to his favorite child is yes and Amen!
In Jesus we hear a resounding "yes" to all of God's many promises. This is the reason we say "Amen" to and through Jesus when giving glory to God (2 Corinthians 1:20 The Voice Translation).
Don't be moved by what you see. Speak God's Word to your situation and put on your faith frames.
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